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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719164">Friends In Low Places</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang'>Interrobang</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Revelry On High [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Anal Sex, Biting, M/M, Rough Sex, Trans Caleb Widogast, is it really an au if one of them is already like....basically a god in canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:46:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobang/pseuds/Interrobang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094606">Revelry On High.</a></p><p>Caleb has returned to his homeland after his experiences in the more affable southern countries. To his surprise, he runs into the god of revelry again, but he seems...different this time around.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucien/Caleb Widogast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Revelry On High [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Friends In Low Places</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a sequel to Revelry On High, which featured Mollymauk as the god of revelry. I wanted to play with the idea that Lucien and Molly are in a way the same person and merely different expressions of the same creature, much the way the same gods were seen differently under Greek vs Roman pantheons. You don't necessarily need to read ROH for this one to make sense, but it does give some context.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>[img description: an ornate baroque-styled dining room featuring a table set with candles and fine china. /end description]</p><p>--</p><p>Caleb did not often allow himself to dwell on his memories of that night out in the vineyard. It was clear in his memory, though it retained the kind of out-of-time qualities of a particularly vivid dream. It haunted Caleb: the merest thought of Mollymauk’s body burning an infernal line of fire against his own set Caleb’s heart to a pounding staccato in his chest and turned him instantly into a stuttering mess.</p><p>And so he did not allow himself to think of it.</p><p>Instead he immersed himself in his studies. He collected the elements he had come to the southern countries for, catalogued them as necessary, wrote his conclusions about their properties, and moved on. He went from town to town, keeping his ledgers, growing his collection, and slowly but surely growing his body of published work with it. By the time he’d returned home to the frozen north he had quite a collection of work to be presented, and quite a bit of a reputation with it.</p><p>Along with that reputation came invitations: to dinners, to parties, and even, to his great surprise and even greater honor, to one of the Empire’s greatest closed societies. Along with that change in status came funding for his research—  and it was not a modest sum. He could at last afford finely tailored clothes to wear to the galas he was now invited to, and to entertain his own company at his newly rented townhouse in the city. He no longer had to expend his magic just to feed himself; he had the everyday magic of a pocketful of clinking precious metals to do that for him instead.</p><p>His access to the society and its accompanying libraries, symposiums, and conferences meant that Caleb was now able to study in depth and compare his work to that of others that currently toiled in similar fields. And each mageographer had their own focus, each unique and intriguing in its own way—  but Caleb had yet to find anything that piqued his interest as much as what he’d found abroad.</p><p>And no structured, documented magic Caleb had encountered in his travels had made such an impression as the magic of that night out in the vineyard with Mollymauk and the nameless revelers. That magic had been passionate, high-spirited, and free—  wild magic in the truest sense, orchestrated with the utmost precision into a directed cacophony of song and dance.</p><p>He dreamed of it, even now.</p><p>It was hard not to, when Mollymauk’s ‘party favor,’ as he’d put it, waited in a box in the drawer-within-a-drawer of Caleb’s wardrobe. He’d only taken it out and used it a few times, eliciting extreme pleasure and equally extreme embarrassment. He couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it—  and part of him suspected that if he made an attempt to, something strange and terrible would happen. You weren’t supposed to look gift horses in the mouth; he supposed the same should have been said about magical cocks too.</p><p>With that reminder burning a hole in his wardrobe, he often thought about the man—  or god—  himself. Mollymauk had danced with Caleb like it was as easy as breathing, pushing new life into Caleb’s stiff limbs that made him feel light and joyous. Caleb missed that freedom every moment of his waking life. The southern lands in general had been more open; now that he was returned home to Rexxentrum things were, for lack of a better word, colder. The peoples’ sensibilities here were different; even the <em>gods </em>were different, and Caleb found himself missing the affability of the southern pantheon.</p><p>He missed Molly.</p><p>So when Caleb spotted a flash of purple skin out of the corner of his eye at the next soiree he attended, he felt a shiver go down his spine, yanking him to attention. His heart leaped like a well-trained hound at the lilting laugh he heard seemingly from every corner, having found its way out of his dreams and into this dinner party.</p><p>Caleb stumbled through the crowd pursuing that laugh. He stepped between groups of fellow scholars, dodging questions and begging off conversation to find its maddening source. And there:</p><p>A purple tiefling with curling, well-decorated horns and blood-red eyes, winking at him from the door to a back hallway. He disappeared around the corner with a flick of his tail.</p><p>What else could Caleb do but follow?</p><p>He caught Molly just as the tiefling ducked into a door at the end of another grand hallway. Caleb’s heartbeat quickened: this was not a place guests should be. A quick glance around the room identified it as some sort of study or lab. Indeed, there was a chemist’s set of tools and instruments along one wall on a long workbench. Papers were filed in stacks and assorted lines along another desk, and boxes and vials of colorful substances set in trays bubbled cheerily. It was here Caleb found the tiefling, sifting through papers.</p><p>Gathering his courage, he sidled up beside Mollymauk, laying one hand on the tiefling’s shoulder, and murmured, “I do not think the master of the house would welcome finding his guests stealing a look at his hard-hidden research.”</p><p>“If he wanted to keep it from prying eyes he would have put more than one lock on the door,” the tiefling retorted with a laugh. Caleb fought the urge to frown: perhaps it was the dissonance between his memories and this moment here, but Molly’s voice sounded a tad different. “Don’t you just want to peek a little?”</p><p>“It is not my place,” was all Caleb said as he reached for Molly’s wrist, tugging his hands away from the stack of papers. “But how are you? Only I haven’t seen you in so long—  I still have your, er, your gift…”</p><p>“Enjoying that, are you?” Molly asked with a smug grin. He caressed Caleb’s jaw with one clawed hand; Caleb leaned into it, skin singing at the prickle-points of the god’s claws on his chin, at the tempered flame of his palm. Oh, how he’d <em>missed </em>this man’s infernally hot skin against his own. “Naughty, naughty, Mister Scholar.” He looked Caleb up and down, seeming to assess every detail of his person, and once again Caleb felt <em>seen </em>in a way that was not altogether comfortable. “But that’s not all of it, is it?”</p><p>“I missed you,” Caleb admitted, and oh was it hard to say that out loud. “I cannot stop thinking about you, about that night—  those people, and the music, and the fire, and us—”</p><p>“Careful what you say,” Molly said, and something in his voice made Caleb’s blood cool. “I might decide to do something about it.”</p><p>“Is that a threat?” He tried to smile flirtily; it formed wobbly and unsure instead.</p><p>“Let me tell you something, little scholar,” the tiefling purred. “Gods change depending on their worship. My godhood represents revelry, joyous lovemaking, and debauchery. In some places that is considered a good thing, a way of celebration.</p><p>“And then here,” the tiefling said, and suddenly Caleb wasn’t quite sure of what name to use for the man, “In this place, all the things I base my existence on have...<em>different </em>connotations. There is shame in this land, and it turns all the things that make me up, well—!” He laughed, and his teeth were sharp, his eyes cold. “I hesitate to say dark and mean, but there’s a sharp, icy edge to this land that makes me feel a little more...beastly.”</p><p>Caleb shivered, only to be cut short with a yelp when the god’s hand gripped Caleb’s hip and spun them around so that his front was pressed against the table, his arms yanked behind his back in a tight grasp.</p><p>“And— what do they call you here?” Caleb asked, the wood of the tabletop rough against his cheek. “Names...names are important no matter where in the world you go. Names have power. Would you tell me yours?”</p><p>“In this place, under this guise, you may call me Lucien,” the tiefling murmured, his grip on Caleb’s arms tight enough to make his wrist bones creak.</p><p>“Lucien…” The name felt colder on Caleb’s tongue, lacking the sonorant ring of his previous name. “And what are you going to do with me here, Lucien?”</p><p>Lucien laughed against his ear, the sound dangerous yet oddly soft. Caleb’s face flushed as he realized he could feel the tiefling’s erection pressing against him even through the many layers of clothes between them. He bit his lip— the god’s influence was strong, but did Caleb want to do this here?</p><p>He decided he didn’t care when Lucien pulled aside the layers of his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt to drag his sharp teeth along the back of Caleb’s neck, poised to bite like a jaguar breaking its prey’s spine. Caleb shivered at the faint pain of them; there was no doubt that they could draw blood if so inclined.</p><p>He moaned as Lucien’s hand tightened on his wrists, forcing him to arch upwards to keep his balance. He spread his legs more widely in turn, propriety gone so completely that he was willing to be bent over like an animal and fucked in a stranger’s study—</p><p>Lucien turned Caleb’s head with a firm hand on his jaw, biting into his mouth like he wanted to eat him alive. Caleb tasted blood— but also honey wine, the kind aged for months through the winter to warm a man in the fresh snows of spring. He whimpered, taut and torn and unable—  unwilling— to move, letting Lucien devour him.</p><p>But then he heard the creak of the study’s door, a startled shout—</p><p>Caleb flinched bodily, still bent over the table, Lucien at his back. There was no way to hide what they were doing. He would be kicked out of society for such behavior. He’d lose his research funding, and his reputation—</p><p>“My apologies, dear friends,” Lucien said smoothly. “My compatriot here needed a bit of assistance,” He adjusted his hands so it looked like he was soothingly patting Caleb’s back. He slyly still covered Caleb’s body with his own. “I’m afraid he indulged a bit too much, and I only wanted to find him a quiet place to recover his senses.”</p><p>“Find somewhere less proprietary than my lab,” the flustered scholar at the door groused. Caleb could hear the distaste in his words. “The sitting room isn’t far, and would be far simpler than my <em>private </em>workspace.”</p><p>“My apologies,” Lucien purred. He tucked an arm around Caleb’s shoulders, encouraging him to lean on him. “I think I’ll just take him home, after all.” He made a pitying expression at Caleb, flushed and silent in his grasp. “Herr Widogast doesn’t like to make a big deal of these sorts of things, out of respect for his hosts of course, but he’s got a bit of a delicate constitution, you see.” He winked at Caleb, barely more than a twitch of his eyelid.</p><p>“Yes, yes,” the scholar grumbled. “Pray you did not contaminate my work, Widogast, or we shall have words at a later date.”</p><p>The people behind the scholar looked at them pityingly as Caleb, recognizing an out, leaned heavily on Lucien as he was escorted, stumbling, out of the room.</p><p>Once clear of prying eyes, Lucien grabbed him by the jaw and pulled him in for another filthy kiss, laughing when Caleb moaned and swayed on his feet again.</p><p>“Show me how high society is treating you,” Lucien entreated. “I’d like to see what my gifts have wrought for my favored worshipper.”</p><p>Worship was a strong word, but—  Caleb thought of the nights alone in his fancy rented home, in bed with nothing but his imagination and the burnished wood of the magical phallus he’d been given.</p><p>“I would worship you more personally,” Caleb managed to murmur, eyes downcast— and caught a glimpse of the still-not-quite-flagging show of interest at Lucien’s hip. “If you’ll be my guest?”</p><p>“Why not?” Lucien said with a toothy grin. “You were mine, once. I’d be happy to be yours.”</p><p>
  <em>To be yours.</em>
</p><p>Caleb thought on the phrasing as he and the tiefling briskly and silently walked the scant few blocks back to Caleb’s townhome. (While he had money now, it was not enough to keep a carriage waiting.) Lucien was quiet at his side, though his steps were confident, all the swagger he had held in the vineyard now put into sure, light-footed steps over cobblestones and curbs.</p><p>Caleb closed the door behind them with a soft thump. His meager staff had been dismissed for the day, leaving Caleb to tend to him himself. There would be cold food waiting in the larder for him, and logs neatly stacked in each fireplace ready for him to light if needed, but they were alone here, the house silent but for the ticking of the great clock in the front hall and the occasional creak of the walls as wind shook the building.</p><p>Lucien peered into each open doorway in interest as Caleb led him through the house. The god seemed to emanate power, the radiant energy of him dark and rich, almost intoxicating. It was a stark opposite to Mollymauk, who had been bright and lively; his northern counterpart, in turn, was dark and lovely, but with a hint of danger to his countenance. Caleb could not bring himself to look at Lucien directly, the brightness of his blood-red eyes too intense to bear for long. He was dressed more dully: though the clothes were of a finer make than Mollymauk’s patchwork wonder of a coat, they were darker, sleeker, made to impress.</p><p>What else had changed?</p><p>Caleb’s breath came heavily as he climbed the stairs, Lucien on his heels. They trod up the twisting staircase, past portraits of judging ancestors and maps Caleb had drawn up during his travels. The shadows loomed, flickering lamplight casting Lucien in indigo-black shadow as they climbed.</p><p>In his room, Lucien investigate all the corners, tail flicking back and forth excitedly as he inspected the assorted items on Caleb’s desk: crystals and lumps of metal and piles of hastily-scrawled notes; there were towering stacks of books as well, and sheafs of fine paper next to the best ink he could find. Lucien plucked at the papers, reading over their lines with an amused expression on his face while Caleb started to shuck his clothes. It was a process: he had his cloak and then overcoat, waistcoat and sleeve garters, cravat and undershirt and—  he blinked, and all of it was gone.</p><p>Lucien grinned at him from across the room, a predatory look on his face.</p><p>“I liked those,” Caleb said flatly, the complaint half-hearted.</p><p>Lucien’s smile was beatific, the slow curl of his lips smug. “There will be more fine clothes in your future, the way your research is going,” he assured Caleb.</p><p>Lucien deliberately took off his thick outer coat and finery slowly, draping it over the back of Caleb’s desk chair, as he cast a hungry glance at Caleb. Unsure what else to do, Caleb could only flush from ears to chest, wrapping a hand around one post of his bed frame as he watched the tiefling disrobe.</p><p>But Lucien did not come to him right away after he was nude. Instead, as if he knew exactly where Caleb kept such things, he flung open Caleb’s wardrobe doors, laughing as he rooted through the clothing and boxes within. He pulled open one drawer with a flick of his clawed fingers, the inner drawer inside that, and finally drew out the velvet pouch Caleb had been hiding his gift in.</p><p>“Well, well,” Lucien purred, letting the burnished wood tumble out of the pouch into his hand. Caleb shivered as a phantom sensation sparked through his groin. He shifted awkwardly as Lucien approached him. “You <em>have </em>been taking good care of it. I hope it’s served you well?” He arched a dark purple eyebrow at Caleb, then laughed. He brandished the toy, drawing it along his fine cheek before flicking his forked tongue out against it.</p><p>Want, hot and golden, rushed down Caleb’s spine. He inhaled sharply, reaching out to grab Lucien’s wrist, pulling the toy away from that dangerous mouth of his.</p><p>“Perhaps be more careful with that,” he managed to stutter out as he slowly pried the toy out of Lucien’s grip and set it carefully on the bed behind him.</p><p>“Hm,” Lucien hummed neutrally in response, though his eyes betrayed his desire to tease further with a flash of crimson light.</p><p>At once his hands shot out and grabbed Caleb’s hips. He quickly pressed their bodies together, the lean muscle of Lucien’s body burning hot against Caleb’s own.</p><p>Lucien kissed him hungrily, tooth and tongue playing in equal measure. It was all Caleb could do to keep up, hands tightening on Lucien’s shoulders as he was consumed in small measures. Lucien’s cock was hot at his front, slick where it slid against Caleb’s belly. Feeling brave on his own territory, Caleb reached down and wrapped a hand around him, stroking him once, twice, sighing at the shuddery roll of Lucien’s body a flick against the barbell through the head elicited in response.</p><p>Lucien flipped him around, bending him over the bed. He ground against his hips, cock slipping between Caleb’s cheeks. A bead of panic welled up in Caleb’s chest as he stiffened and stuttered “Ah, erm, I know we spoke of this before, but—”</p><p>“Nothing there, but what about…?” Lucien pet between his cheeks. His fingers were slick—  when had that happened, and how?-- and one rubbed against his back hole, the blunt prodding enough to make Caleb straighten his spine.</p><p>How had he not considered that before? It was not the same...would not feel the same, he was sure, and he could quell the panic. In fact, it felt rather good, the rubbing, Lucien’s considerably deft fingers massaging against him, slick and firm. When Caleb did not pull away and only let out a shaky exhale instead, Lucien chuckled and pushed one long finger inside, coating his walls in more slick.</p><p>“<em>Sheisse</em>,” Caleb hissed as he felt his body react, the great well of lust in his gut rising golden and warm once more. He let his legs spread more widely, leaned forward to lean on his elbows, his front plastered to the bed covers.</p><p>“There we go,” Lucien purred. He pressed in a second finger, hooking and pressing them in a strange way that made Caleb’s legs want to buckle. It wasn’t as intense as having something in him in other ways...but there was a different kind of intensity to it, the taboo and pleasure all rolling into something strange and enjoyable.</p><p>Lucien pressed into him easily—  but not gently, more like he was doing this for his own pleasure’s sake. Whereas Mollymauk had been giving and laughing while they had rolled in the dirt together, Lucien was more selfish, pressing into Caleb hungrily, sharp teeth digging into Caleb’s shoulder like he needed to draw blood to be satisfied. His teeth were so sharp, the point of pain in Caleb’s shoulder bright and deep—  he could feel it as the blood welled up in the dragging tears, a forked tongue lapping up the smears of red.</p><p>Caleb gasped as Lucien fucked into him fervently, shoving meanly and taking his own pleasure. Where Mollymauk had drawn things out into the longest, greatest pleasure he could, Lucien seemed determined to wring an orgasm out of Caleb as quickly and roughly as possible. His teeth tightened on Caleb’s shoulder, biting truly like he wanted to rip his flesh—  yet all it did was make Caleb’s groin throb, the <em>pushpullshove </em>of Lucien inside him overwhelming in the best way.</p><p>Gasping again into his bed covers as he was pushed gradually up the bed, fingers digging into the blanket just to have something to grip. And then, knocking against his fist—  the toy, the solid wood weighty against his fingers. Instinctively Caleb reached out to grab it, just so it didn’t get knocked to the floor in their shaking of the bed frame. But as soon as he touched it it awoke, and sensation flooded through Caleb’s groin.</p><p>He moaned, fist tightening in a feedback loop as Lucien fucked him from behind and he gripped the cock.</p><p>“Show me your devotion,” Lucien hissed behind him. “Worship with the tools given, little scholar.”</p><p>At Lucien’s words, Caleb helplessly moaned once more and obeyed. The toy was smooth and firm as he tentatively pressed it to his lips—  and gasped, mouth dropping open as the wet heat of his own mouth overwhelmed him. He sucked eagerly, pushing it into his mouth, pressing against his palate in a most delectable way.</p><p>In a trio of strange and wondrous sensations, Caleb sucked on the wooden cock and let one hand drop down to rub against his own flesh and blood appendage. He was so wet—  he squelched obscenely as he rubbed himself off with desperately wet fingers, slicking through his auburn curls. He hadn’t felt this good since the field. Hadn’t felt this carefree, this desperate, this thoroughly held.</p><p>Arching his back as Mol—  as Lucien tangled his clawed fingers in Caleb’s hair, yanking his head back until he had to drop the wooden cock, jaw falling open instead to shout openly, moaning loudly as he rubbed himself off, wooden cock in one hand, cunt pulsing against the other.</p><p>Lucien snarled like a wild animal as he shoved Caleb into the bed, hips stuttering as he finished. Caleb moaned a final time, feeling himself pulse around Lucien’s cock—  wet heat filled him in spurts, the sensation disgustingly erotic enough to make Caleb’s hole pulse once more at the idea.</p><p>At last Lucien pulled away roughly, giving Caleb a friendly pat on his reddened backside. Caleb could barely move, so worn out that he might as well have been a pile of mage-shaped mush. He only sighed, shuddering, when Lucien pushed two fingers back into him idly, shoving any leaking come back into him.</p><p>“Something to remember me by,” Lucien said fondly, his eyes sparkling with laughter that was almost as bright as Mollymauk’s.</p><p>Caleb rolled over on the bed, collapsing sweatily only to watch Lucien brush himself off, admiring Caleb as he snapped his fingers and was suddenly presentable again.</p><p>“Are you—  around here often?” Caleb managed to make himself say, regretting it at once. <em>Foolish! Needy!</em></p><p>As if sensing his thoughts, Lucien smirked, full lips quirking smugly. “I’m everywhere and nowhere. I’m sure we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other if you continue your travels,” the god said with a sharp-toothed smile. He stalked over to the bed and trailed one clawed hand down Caleb’s sweaty chest, eliciting another bodily shiver from Caleb’s too-sensitive skin.</p><p>Caleb closed his eyes and took a few deep, shuddery breaths, intending to ask how best to summon him again, but—</p><p>When he blinked his eyes open again, he was the only person in his room, disgustingly damp and thoroughly alone. <em>Discarded,</em> he thought sullenly.</p><p>Well. He would simply have to do more thorough research, wouldn’t he? It was what he was good at. It was what he enjoyed. Firsthand accounts of wild magic were rare—  perhaps this was Lucien’s gift in itself to him, knowing he could not leave it be like a more sensible person.</p><p>He sighed resignedly, stretching luxuriously and basking in the warmth that had come over him like an afternoon sunbeam. There was work to do, and notes to scratch out before the details were lost, but for now—  well, for now he would simply enjoy the touch of the divine as it was intended.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come check me out on Twitter! I'm <a href="twitter.com/GoInterrobang">@GoInterrobang</a> over there. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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